The Nightmare Shapes and Fades Away
by Alchemist Experiment
Summary: Eileen thought the nightmares had stopped. But would they ever, when every night she slept beside the strongest reminder of that hellish ordeal? HenryxEileen


Disclaimer: Not mine, not making any money off of this.

Warnings: Spoilers for entire game and 'Escape' ending.

**The Nightmare Shapes and Fades Away**

There was darkness on every side, heavy and silent and closing in on her. She was running, her high heeled sandals pinching her feet, her body aching. The path under her was uneven, rough, and she stumbled and tripped as she ran. Behind her, she could hear _something_. Ungodly noises, ever closer. Her foot caught on a rock, she tumbled forward. The ground rushed up to meet her and she tried to brace herself but her broken arm was useless and whatever was behind her was almost upon her….

Eileen sat up in bed with her hand covering her mouth, trying to stifle the scream that rose up in her throat. She clamped her hand over her lips as though she could force it back down. The dream left her shaking, her heart racing, her breathing short.

But she wouldn't make a noise. Cautiously, in the dim light from the bedside clock, she glanced over at the other side of the bed. No movement. No sound but gentle, quiet snoring. She relaxed, letting her hand fall away from her mouth.

She'd told Henry the nightmares had stopped.

It was just easier that way. She didn't want him to worry, and she didn't want to remind him. And they _had_ stopped, for a little while. He'd held her every evening until she fell asleep, stroking her hair and keeping her safe. But now they were back, stealing away her sleep.

Carefully, Eileen swung her legs over the side of the bed. She sat up, her shoulders still shaking. With painful slowness she pushed herself off of the bed, breath held. She was nearly standing, her heart sounding far too loud in the dark bedroom.

"…mph. Eileen…?"

Damn. Eileen winced, closing her eyes for a moment before turning to look over her shoulder. Henry, flopped over onto his back now, blinking at her with eyes heavy with sleep.

"Bathroom," she said, quietly. He was starting to push himself up and she reached over, ruffling his hair lightly. "I shouldn't have had that tea right before bed. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Oh." Henry rubbed at his eyes, yawning. "It's okay."

He was so hard to read, sometimes. Eileen let her hand trail over his cheek, fingers brushing against the coarse stubble on his jaw.

"Go back to sleep," she urged. She slipped off the bed and headed into the bathroom, her light cotton pajamas clinging to her from a fine sheen of sweat. She made it to the bathroom and locked the door behind her before sinking onto the toilet and shivering.

She'd thought the nightmares were over and done with. Burying her face in her hands, Eileen tried to control her shaking. They were just dreams.

Just dreams. Was there even such a thing? She ran her hands through her hair, pushing it back. She wondered if Henry had fallen back to sleep, or if he was laying awake in the darkness waiting for her.

The shaking had stopped. Eileen stood, turning to face her reflection. Heavy eyelids, washed out skin, lank hair. She could pass all of them off as nothing more than signs she'd just rolled out of bed. They could be covered with makeup and fixed with a blow dryer and brush. And one nightmare didn't mean anything.

She didn't even know why she hadn't told Henry the truth. What was she afraid of? He'd always been supportive and understanding in his own quiet way. The dream catcher hanging over the bed had been a gift from him. They'd moved, no longer even in the same state as Ashfield. A new place to live, a new city, new neighbors and new everything else. And a week later he'd brought the dream catcher home. A housewarming gift, he'd said, with a small smile. And he'd hung it himself and she'd held him from behind and kissed his cheek and thanked god or whatever was up there that she had him.

They'd never talked about it, really, because how did you talk about something like that? Some days she wondered if it had even been real, and some days she didn't think about it at all. And maybe some day she'd forget it all.

But the reminders were always there. She knew if she lifted her shirt and turned that the scars would be there. She kept them covered as much as she could because she didn't want to remember; but she couldn't hide them all the time. And she couldn't help but wonder what Henry thought, when he touched her. They didn't hurt anymore, but everything Henry ran his hands over her bare back she knew he was touching them. And his fingers never faltered or paused, but she couldn't help but wonder what went through his mind.

Sometimes her thoughts were cruel. Did she only stay with him because of that? She never needed to explain, never needed to worry he'd ask her about things she didn't want to talk about. And they'd been through it together. Hell, she knew that he'd saved her life in that awful nightmare place. What else could have happened, following that, then what _had_ happened? How could two people go through hell and back together without being tied in ways no other human being could understand?

She knew she loved him. And she knew it wasn't only because he'd protected her and brought her out of that hell. She loved him because he was a good, warm, caring man who loved her. And it was a double edged sword, wasn't it? He was her rock and her anchor, but in a way he was the strongest reminder left. Sometimes he would perform some mundane everyday task and she'd be taken back to that phantasm world with crystal clarity. She didn't want to think that maybe he didn't keep the nightmares at bay after all.

The dream visions had faded some. Eileen turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face. Her heart wasn't pounding any longer and the vivid images had been pushed to the back of her mind. Maybe she could get back to sleep and finish out the night uninterrupted, and she could keep her little secret.

She turned off the faucet and opened the door quietly, listening. Henry was snoring again, and she couldn't help but smile as she leaned against the doorframe and watched the man on the bed. He was on his back, sprawled, one arm folded over his head. He looked so peaceful… did he ever have nightmares? Or had the change in scenery been enough for him?

The duplex they lived in now was nothing like her old apartment. The view out the window was a small park, not a subway stop and shopping district. Walking back out into the bedroom, she took in the furniture - all new. There was nothing left here to remind her of horror from last year…

Nothing, of course, but Henry.


End file.
